Work Text:
step, step, step. step, step, stutter, stutter, stutter. the loud click-clacking of sapnap’s boots echoed against the stone floors, illuminating his presence. hands, bunched up at his sides, shook carefully; he recited the words he had so desperately planned only hours before. only hours after dream was put in the prison. only hours until his execution.
he saw the bars. he saw the iron that encased him. the iron that encased the beast that was dream — the beast that was his husband. that fact got harder and harder to live with every day, and it was never getting better. he watched his husband descend into whatever this was. his attempts to stop him were futile, if not few and far between, and he didn’t know what to do. he had to stop him. he had to - to - to protect karl. quackity. bad. the rest of them. all of them. it was on him. tommy’s death was on him.
it was the first thing he noticed. the neon green stood out among the muted greys, prompting sapnap to look directly at the person he didn’t truly want to face. dream.
dream was already looking directly at him, playing with the ring still surrounding his ring finger, knuckles white and bruised; his mask, now torn off and cracked down the middle, lay to the side, revealing his freckled face. his hair was long, cascading down his shoulders in greasy waves. his hand, which usually had spare scrunchies or hair ties on it, held only handcuffs that masqueraded as bracelets. sapnap’s insides twisted.
he cleared his throat, a shaky, guttural sound coming out in place of the usual loud cough. his hands gripped the bars, his ring clinking against the iron with a sharp ‘clang!’, and he raised his head. they made eye contact, slow and familiar; the exhaustion, ever present, wavered to make way for the loving look in dream’s eyes. he tried not to reciprocate it.
sapnap’s voice rang out in the prison, encasing every stone corner with his torn up voice. the soft, tender feeling that surrounded you when he spoke was gone, now replaced with one that felt like pure agony — the one so seldom used that it would appear new to nearly everyone.
“was it worth it?” dream looked at him, each and every word grating against his ears. “was it worth all of this? was it worth losing all of our friends, our family? did - did you even consider how i’d feel? how this would effect me?”
his hands shook. tears threatened to spill. “dr... i spent months mourning you before you were even truly gone. i told you to stop. i begged you to end it.” the thick, large bars rattled softly against his touch. “i had to grieve in secret, dream. i had to hide it all. no one knew about our relationship, and with you - with you here, i can’t tell anyone. i can’t mourn what we had. i can’t say anything. i can’t...”
he took a deep breath in, closing his eyes. “i’ll always love you, dreamie, but you put me through too much.”